


The Weather Outside is Frightful

by chronicallyHaughty



Series: Blessed are the mabari [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, But she's fine!!! I promise!!!, M/M, Near animal death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 16:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicallyHaughty/pseuds/chronicallyHaughty
Summary: Cullen bursts through the door to the café, surely making a right spectacle of himself and bringing a burst of hail laden cold wind in with him, but he hardly pays it any mind. Despite his best efforts, the bundle in his arms is too cold, too quiet.





	The Weather Outside is Frightful

Cullen bursts through the door to the café, surely making a right spectacle of himself and bringing a burst of hail laden cold wind in with him, but he hardly pays it any mind. Despite his best efforts, the bundle in his arms is too cold, too quiet. Fighting down panic, he murmurs to it with a tinge of desperation, as he fumbles his phone out with shaking fingers.

“Come on, come on,” he hisses at it when it remains stubbornly dead from the chill.

“Can I assist you in any way?” The handsome man seated by the window has half risen from his seat with a concerned look and a Tevene accent. Cullen is in a bad enough way that he latches on to whatever scrap of hope he can find.

“Oh, ah, yes, if I could trouble you to find the nearest available veterinarian? I would, but my phone…” He shifts his arm a little, revealing the small face of the mabari pup to the man. So damn _cold,_ and much too still. The man’s face pales, and he gapes for a beat before rushing into motion.

“Vishante kaffas, did you find that poor thing outside?! Hold on, let me,” he sits back down, tapping away at his laptop quickly. Cullen goes back to rubbing the creature down best he can, but she’s so very little. Maker knows how long she’s been out there, alone, huddling in the trash beside a dumpster. It lights a fiery rage inside Cullen, and this one is unrelated to his recent mood swings, he’s sure. What kind of person would just leave a dog outside in this Maker forsaken storm?

“There. Forgive me, serah, but you seem to have made your way here by foot.” The man starts efficiently packing away his things as he speaks. “If it’s agreeable to you, I’d very much like to drive you two to the veterinarian.”

Cullen is startled by how much kindness there still is in the world.

“Yes. Thank you.”

They jog a short distance to where a sleek sports car is parked, and Cullen finds himself apologising even as he gets in.

“I’m sorry, I hope this won’t ruin your car–,” he starts, but he’s cut off.

“Nonsense! This is a life or death situation!” The man waves his concern off with a hand. “I’m Dorian, by the way, Dorian Pavus. Best to get that out before it gets too awkward.”

As Dorian puts the car into drive and starts making his way into the very sparse traffic, Cullen realises that he’s right. Any longer and it would have been awkward indeed, not knowing one another’s name. He clears his throat.

“Cullen Rutherford. Thank you, for doing this.” Dorian flashes him a quick but dazzling smile, even as the hail keeps clattering down on the car’s roof.

“Think nothing of it. Here.” He reaches out and turns the heat up.

Cullen is about to reply when he feels the last thing he wants to happen, happen.

The little pup stops breathing.

The noise he makes is inhuman, and Dorian jumps in shock next to him.

“No, no, no, Maker, no,” Cullen chants desperately, barely noticing as Dorian pulls the car into a sloppy double park.

“Cullen? I realise we only just met, but, may I try something?”

“She’s gone, sweet Andraste, she’s,” he’s rambling, but. He had become so invested in this little life so swiftly. Couldn’t even save a dog, now could he? Pathetic. Nonsensically, as is the way of such things, the insidious thought creeps in that if he only had still been on lyrium, then maybe…

 _“Cullen,”_ Dorian’s exasperated voice cuts through the fog. Oh. They’ve stopped. Dorian is leaning over, handsome face full of gentle sympathy. His hand is hovering over the still puppy. “Time is of the essence, here. Can I try?”

Cullen just nods numbly. Not like things can get any worse than they already are. He doesn’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed over the tears that threaten to spill over at any moment, now. He wanted so badly to do something good for once. Post-traumatic stress, a voice says in the back of his head. He should damn well think so. He’s so tired of lives being snuffed out in his hands.

Dorian’s hand brushes his when he goes to rest it on the pup’s lifeless back. Inexplicably, the touch settles Cullen a little. Then the hand starts to glow a dark purple, and Cullen rears back in shock before he even processes what he’s seeing.

“Ah. Perhaps I–,” Dorian starts, looking chastised, but Cullen feels a sudden flare of hope. He settles back in his seat and nods for Dorian to go on. The man scrutinises him for a moment before giving a decisive nod of his own.

This time Cullen is prepared for the flare of magic. He can’t sense it, as such, not anymore. But the air around Dorian grows ever so slightly warmer as he concentrates. Cullen watches carefully as Dorian works, eyes flickering between his face and the sigil being woven around his hand, though Dorian’s attention is firmly on the little body in Cullen’s arms.

To think, only a few months ago Cullen would rather be dead than sit still while someone cast a spell on top of him. His therapist will no doubt be proud of his progress.

Cullen has seen magic do things magnificent and dreadful alike, in his life. Right now, he can only hope and pray that Dorian is doing the former.

A moment passes. Another.

The only sounds in the car is the rattling of hail and the deep hum of powerful magic.

 _Another_ moment.

The puppy abruptly shudders, coughs, and starts to complain, loudly.

Cullen is so relieved he could kiss the other man.

The tears do fall, now, before he can stop them. Dorian wastes no time. With a delighted laugh he puts the car back in drive and resumes their journey. They make it to their destination in the next ten minutes, and Dorian parks the car in a spot Cullen isn’t sure is entirely legal, but they’re both too anxious to care.

Their entry is a bit dramatic, slamming doors and whatnot, but the man behind the front desk drops what he’s holding and rushes over when he spots the bundle in Cullen’s arms, and from there things move quickly as the doctor reassures them that he will take a look at the puppy immediately. He takes the puppy, gently soothing, and once the blond manbun hurriedly disappears around a corner Cullen feels the adrenalin drain out of him all at once.

He sags onto a nearby chair and just breathes. He doesn’t even realise that Dorian is still there until he feels a tentative touch to his shoulder. He startles, and Dorian withdraws, holding his hands up with a somewhat shaky grin. Cullen is sure that the bashful one he offers in return is even shakier.

“Not exactly how I was expecting today to go, but I’m damn glad I was where I was when I was needed,” Dorian offers with a laugh that’s more a relieved rush of breath. Cullen can’t help but agree.

“I cannot thank you enough, Dorian. I’m sorry for my, well, reaction, before,” he winces, his smile surely turning self-deprecating.

“Oh no, the fault is entirely mine. I should have explained what I was about to do better. This isn’t my homeland, after all.” Cullen grimaces at the thought. He’s fairly certain he would have noticed if what had been used was blood magic, lack of lyrium notwithstanding.

“Ah, I. If I may inquire. The magic, I didn’t quite recognise it, was it…?” Maker, he can’t even say the word out loud for fear of hearing it confirmed.

“A simple touch of necromancy, do not fret. Or, not simple, as actually calling souls back to the recently departed can’t be called _simple_ by any stretch of the imagination, but I digress. I’ve no inclination towards my countrymen’s favoured approach, I assure you.” Cullen is relieved, and disturbed at how little he had cared in the heat of the moment. Hunting down practitioners of illegal magic was his job up until very recently. And yet he had been willing to look the other way to save one small puppy, in spite of his past experiences with the damned school of magic. It’s enough to send a shiver down his spine, as he feels himself closer than ever to understanding the drive of those desperate people.

Dorian is looking at him with a calculated look. Probably wondering how a man such as himself, mundane as can be with not a drop of magic in him, could possibly tell the difference between magic schools to begin with.

“I see,” Cullen forces out, belatedly. “Necromancy isn’t widely practiced in Ferelden, and while use of it is regulated, it isn’t illegal, unlike, well.”

“Oh dear. I do hope you’re not planning to report me, serah.” Dorian’s mouth twitches into a smile, but there is a wariness there that Cullen finds himself wanting to ease. The man has been nothing but kind to him, and Cullen _knows_ there is good magic. There _is._

“That isn’t my job anymore,” he says, and Dorian’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Oh, an _ex_ -Templar. How intriguing. And here I thought that was an occupation you kept for life, in these parts.”

“Not by choice, mostly,” Cullen hears himself say. Dorian’s smile turns… sympathetic.

“So I have heard.” The quiet is abruptly broken by an obnoxious pop song bursting forth from Dorian’s jacket pocket.

“Venhedis! Pardon me.” He withdraws his phone with an apologetic grimace thrown Cullen’s way, and answers in what sounds to Cullen’s untrained ears like flawless Orlesian. As he talks, Cullen tries to get warmth back into his hands, with little success. He’s sure he looks very awkward. Luckily they’re the only ones in the waiting room, but an elven woman in scrubs passes by, throwing the two of them a passing glance, and Cullen feels a bit silly.

It’s not even his dog, he lies to himself. He’s not going to keep it. Never mind that his therapist had suggested he get a pet to care for and this seems like the Maker’s divine providence. He glares at his stiff, cold fingers in dismay.

…He’ll have to buy a crate and toys for the beast, and food, as well as whatever the doctor says she’ll need.

He’s planning out where to place food bowls when the Orlesian tapers of into goodbyes, and Dorian hangs up. He glances up and finds the mage glaring at his phone, before meeting Cullen’s eyes.

“I would have stayed, but alas, there is a bit of an emergency at the workplace, and naturally they cannot possibly survive another minute without me. Do you have a way of getting home?” At Cullen’s confirmation Dorian shifts on his feet, suddenly looking awkward. “I hope it isn’t presumptuous, but. If you are not opposed, I wouldn’t mind hearing how things have gone.”

He waves his phone at Cullen, who blinks at it for a second before realising what is being asked.

“Oh! Certainly.” He takes the phone and creates a new contact, steadfastly ignoring the blush rising from his neck, surely turning his ears as red as a stoplight.

“Marvellous! I’ll text you, but now I really must go. Best of luck to you.” He moves towards the door, another one of those impossibly dazzling grins on his handsome face. Maker’s balls.

“And to you,” he answers inanely. Dorian laughs, and with a jaunty wave, he is gone.

Cullen blinks at the spot where Dorian last was for a moment, before jumping at the buzz against his thigh. Seems like his phone has deigned to awaken at last. He pulls it out and immediately goes an even deeper red.

_ >Pardon my forwardness, but once the little one recovers I’d be delighted to make her acquaintance proper. Perhaps over dinner? ;) _

He hides his helpless grin behind a hand. Maker’s breath, Cullen is in so much trouble.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a tumblr post [here](http://chronicallyhaughty.tumblr.com/post/180316327729/).
> 
> [Writing Tumblr](http://chronicallyhaughty.tumblr.com/) | [Main Tumblr](http://nattvingen.tumblr.com/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/Feloss)


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